Changeling
by thesleepyheads
Summary: There were several conditions to my acceptance into Hogwarts, all of which were completely reasonable, none of which I would come to appreciate much in the years to follow, and one of which I would hate more than life itself. NT/RL, AU, slash and het.
1. An Unexpected Letter

**Title: **Changeling

**Author:** Cait Pen

**Pairing(s):** Tonks/Lupin (primary), Sirius/OMC (secondary), James/Lily (tertiary)

**Rating:** M/NC-17

**Warnings:** Rape, sexuality, language, self-harm, suicidal thoughts/actions

**Summary: **There were several conditions to my acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all of which were completely reasonable, none of which I would come to appreciate much in the years to follow, and one of which I would hate more than life itself. Tonks-centric, NT/RL, AU, warning: slash and het.

**Chapter One: An Unexpected Letter**

**or, **

**in which the narration changes from 1st person to 3rd person and back again.**

_When I turned 10 years old, I got my Hogwarts letter. This, of course, was absolutely unexpected, and took my entire family (all three of us) quite by surprise. I distinctly remember dropping my training wand (which I was using to light my birthday candles) right into my cake. Which then burst into flame. Rather the more vivid part of that memory, I think. _

_I also remember thinking _What in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle is going on?* _followed closely by _Wizard**_. _

_The letter, once I'd worked up the nerve to open it, was, understandably, not the average "Dear Mr./Ms. _, we are pleased to inform you that you have blah blah blah..." though it did share some characteristics. The ink, for instance, was still green (though obviously not written with an auto-quill, as it was in a different handwriting), and the seal, crest, and salutation ("Dear Ms. Tonks...") were all the same, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended. _

_Except that both letters had the capabilities to completely change one's life._

_* A curse word I'd picked up from my dear mother. It should be noted that, at the tender age of 10, I had no idea what a testicle _was._ Until the age of twelve, I had naively believed it to be the secret appendage that Merlin kept hidden because he was afraid of people calling him a freak. Several psychiatrists have now taken note of this, and I am sure that Mum had no idea of the lasting damage her little "fib" did to my psyche._

_** A much less sinister exclamation that I picked up from my lovely, muggleborn papa. After a few years at Hogwarts, I learned to limit the use of this particular oath, as I grew tired of the annoying "Yes?"s I'd get in response.  
_

* * *

"Well, Nymphadora?" Nymphadora's father, a true Ravenclaw, was practically vibrating in his seat, curiosity tapping out of his fingertips. "What does it say?"

Nymphadora took a deep breath and started to read:

"'_Dear Ms. Tonks,_

"'_Salutations and Happy Birthday to you! No doubt you and your parents are interested in why you are getting this letter a year early.'"_

Nymphadora's mother Andromeda Tonks' eyes widened a bit, but Dora didn't notice, and even if she had, she wouldn't have cared to ask why, so she kept on reading.

"'_Well, let me start by saying that my name is Albus Dumbledore, and that I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and have been for some time now. I believe I began as headmaster the very year that your mother graduated, though I did have the pleasure of teaching both of your parents Transfiguration for their time at Hogwarts. But that is another story._

"'_I am writing today to present you with a place at our wondrous school, as a first year. Now, I know what you are thinking, that you are too young to be attending Hogwarts, but the word off the chimney is that you are an extraordinary girl, Nymphadora Tonks. If rumor is to be believed (and it ought to be, I was the one who started it) your first instance of accidental magic was at the tender age of two, and since your fifth birthday you have been practicing magic with a training wand, and doing quite well._

"'_And before you start wondering how I know all of this (since your mother has done an exemplary job keeping this information from her "family" and other less than savory societies) be assured that I have come by this knowledge in only the most reputable ways. Turns out being Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump has its share of little perks. And here I thought they were just pretty titles.'"_

Nymphadora looked up at her parents as if to ask _Is this guy for real?_ and only then noticed the extreme tension in the room. Andromeda's back was so stiff it looked liable to snap in two, and her father Ted's eyes were wide and nervous. She hesitated to continue, but her mother motioned her on with a little jerk of her hand.

"'_Now. Onwards. The whole point of this letter is to tell you this: I don't think that your acceptance to Hogwarts should be addressed solely in a letter. Although that whole plan seems to have been shot to the chocolate factory. Anyway, I shall be calling on you and your lovely family tomorrow morning at approximately ten o'clock. Please expect me, and best wishes on your birthday._

"'_Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Chief Warlock (WZNGMT), Supreme Mugwump (ICoW)_

_Order of Merlin, 1st Class'"_

Nymphadora stared at the letter in her hands for a moment, before allowing her gaze to once more drift up to look at her parents.

Andromeda looked no less tense than she had a moment before, and now her eyes were fixed on the door, as though Mr. Dumbledore were going to walk through at any moment. Although, considering the level of sanity already displayed by the strange, strange man, Nymphadora didn't think she'd be very shocked if he did.

Ted was almost as bad as her mother. He was simply staring at the table, as though the scratched and worn surface would provide some assistance in decoding the Headmaster's convoluted letter.

Nymphadora didn't know what to think, so she simply poured her now melted ice cream onto the smoldering remains of her cake (which hissed and spat satisfyingly), grabbed her birthday present, climbed up the stairs and into her room to settle in for the night and read it.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear and frigid, which was only to be expected for early December. Nymphadora woke curled up at the end of her bed, as per usual. Her sheet was wrapped tight around her, so tight her arms couldn't even move, and her comforter was mounded on top of her in a pile almost three feet high.

After spending a couple of minutes disentangling herself from her nest, she stretched like a cat and wiggled to the floor. Thirty minutes in the bathroom and she was ready for breakfast, dressed in her fuzziest pink robe, bright green slippers, and with her bright blue blanket over her shoulders and trailing behind her on the floor.

It wasn't until she had reached the kitchen and seen the fourth place set in the breakfast nook that she remembered the night before.

Albus Dumbledore was coming to visit.

She looked at the clock on the wall.

In five minutes.

Ted looked up from his newspaper when he heard his daughter enter the kitchen. He looked tired, as if he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before. Nymphadora couldn't see her mother, but she could presume Andromeda was already in the foyer waiting for their guest.

And before Nymphadora had time to even go back upstairs and get dressed properly, there was a knock on the door. She squeaked, Ted jumped, and Andromeda swooped down on the door before remembering her pureblood upbringing and stopping to take a breath, wait ten seconds, then open the door with a calm expression and a welcoming word.

"Welcome Headmaster. You're right on time." He was three minutes early.

"Oh no, dear, I'm really not. But I knew you would say so." He stepped inside.

Nymphadora had edged into the foyer in time to see her mother's expression twitch with mild annoyance. She, too, looked as if she had been up all night.

Andromeda caught sight of her daughter and rolled her eyes, but her eyes also softened a bit, and she seemed more genuinely at ease with Nymphadora looking as she always did in the morning. Not everything in her world had flipped upside down, at least.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I don't believe you've met my daughter, Nymphadora. Nymphadora, this is Headmaster Dumbledore. He's here to speak to you about attending school this year."

_Mum,_ thought Nymphadora, _I read the letter, too._

Dumbledore seemed to see what she was thinking in her eyes, for he said, "Now, Mrs. Tonks, I think everyone knows why I'm here. May we move this conversation to a more comfortable setting?"

"Please, Headmaster, call me Andromeda. Would you care to join us for breakfast?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Then I am Albus, and breakfast would be lovely."

They moved into the kitchen, where Ted was already seated. he stood when they entered, and offered his hand to their visitor.

"Ted Tonks. Nice to see you again, Profess- er, Headmaster." Ted blushed.

"Please, Ted, call me Albus. And it's good to see you both again. Been quite a while since your school days."

"Don't remind me," joked Ted, and some of the residual tension in the room dissipated.

They sat down to eat, but Nymphadora could barely choke down her mother's pancakes. The whole situation was completely bizarre. She didn't understand what had her parents so on edge. So she was getting to go to school a year early, wasn't that a good thing?

"So, Nymphadora." She waited for the Headmaster to continue. When he didn't, she hedged in a tiny, "Yes?"

"That's a beautiful name. 'Gift of the Nymphs.' You're very lucky."

She smiled. She had always liked her name.

"Thank you. I like it too." And, because it seemed polite to ask, "What does your name mean?"

"White." White. Well. That was... boring. "But," and here he leaned a little over the table, as if telling a secret, "my last name means bumblebee."

Nymphadora giggled.

They were quiet for most of breakfast, and Dumbledore wisely chose to hold off the serious talk until afterwards. However, once they had retired to the living room, the more serious conversation started.

"So," said Dumbledore, who was seated in an armchair by the lit fireplace. Nymphadora and her parents were on the sofa across from him, "we all know why I'm here. Nymphadora, how do you feel about coming to school in the fall?"

She looked up at her parents. They gave her no indication of what she should answer. Did she want to go? Yes. Every child dreams of Hogwarts from the day time they understand what it is. Getting to go a year early would be a Godsend. And she was already learning some of the lower years' course work, so she could handle it, for sure. But wanting to go and needing to go were two different things, and if her parents thought she shouldn't, then she wouldn't.

But Dumbledore was waiting for an answer, and her parents weren't giving her anything to work with. So she answered honestly.

"I'd like that, sir. Er, a lot, actually. Is that okay?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, dear, it's perfectly okay. It is in fact what I had hoped to hear. You are an incredibly intelligent young lady, Nymphadora, and wonderfully talented. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" He looked at her and his eyes were twinkling like mad.

Nymphadora nodded. "My mum says I'm the smartest little girl in the whole world, but I think she's exaggerating."

Dumbledore laughed, "I'm sure it's not the worst exaggeration ever, but yes, perhaps a little." His laughter died, but the twinkle in his eyes stayed in place. "But I'm thinking of another kind of talent." He looked her right in the eyes. "Do you know what I'm talking about, Nymphadora?"

She did. It was one of the first things she had ever known about herself. "My mum says I shouldn't talk about it to strangers."

"But I'm not a stranger, Nymphadora."

"No, you're not." He'd even had breakfast with them.

He leaned forward a bit. "So, let's talk about some of your less conventional abilities."

* * *

_I've been able to do it since my first bout of accidental magic. No one could tell me for a long time whether this was normal or not, whether the signs usually started showing then, or later, or earlier. All I know for sure is that when I was two years old, I was playing with my favorite horsey toy when I, first, levitated it all the way to the ceiling, and then sprouted a mane. These two events were phenomenal for several reasons. One, that I'd done my first magic without it being powered by emotion or need. There was no dire need for my toy to be on the ceiling, or to even be away from me. I wasn't upset, or even particularly happy, I just thought (as far as I can tell, I'm kinda making this up) _Hey, wouldn't it be cool if I did this? _and I did. Two, because I had done my first magic before the age of four, which is almost unheard of. Three, because I had managed to change my appearance. And in no small way. It was not a glamour charm, or an accidental equivalent, it was a genuine mane sprouted out of my tiny body. And fourth and finally, because I had no genetic predisposition toward Metamorphamagic. My mum wasn't a Metamorphmagus, my dad wasn't one (obviously), and none of my extended family was. It came out of the blue, and in a really big way. _

_So. Here I am, a humongous freak, about to be accepted to freak school, in a world of freaks who hate other freaks. And the worst thing about this whole situation? The world in which I live, the world I can never leave, it has a saying that has made my life hell for the last six years. _

_Never trust a changeling._

**AN: I know, I shouldn't be putting up something new when I haven't updated LHP in so long, but I promise that the new chapter of LHP will be up tomorrow at the latest, and likely tonight.**

**LOVE**

**William Chalmers Jr.**


	2. Some Sound Advice

**Chapter Two: Some Sound Advice**

**or**

**in which our heroine is entirely too indecisive.**

"Can you change the color of your hair for me, Nymphadora?"

"Can you change the shape of your nose, Nymphadora?"

"Can you change the shade of your eyes?"

"Can you make yourself taller?"

"How about shorter?"

"Thinner?"

"Fatter?"

"And now back to normal, please, Nymphadora."

Dumbledore sat back finally, after about an hour of testing what she could and could not change and modify about herself. She was exhausted, and was having a little trouble keeping her eyes open. She had managed to do everything perfectly, though, towards the end it had taken much more effort.

"Extraordinary." She looked though half-lidded eyes at the Headmaster, and he finally noticed her state. "Oh dear, just a bit of magical and physical over-extension. No worries, my dear, I had anticipated this."

He handed her a small vial of Pepper-Up Potion, the children's dose. It was something she had come to recognize pretty easily, due to the number of times she'd had to take it over the years. It seemed like every time she went outside while growing up, she caught some type of cold. She swallowed it down, and immediately felt better. It was just as well, naps so early in the day only ever messed up her sleep schedule.

"And now, Nymphadora, we must move on to the part of the conversation which is, I fear, the reason behind the look your mother is giving me right now."

Nymphadora looked up at her mother in time to see her quickly mask any expression on her face. She then turned to her father, who wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Nymphadora, while this visit was in part to make sure that you would consent to early admission to Hogwarts, there are other, very important topics to cover. Those tests I just had you complete were part of that.

"Now, I don't know if your parents have already informed you of this or not, but the Wizarding World at large, and Hogwarts students in particular, can be quite vicious to people who are... not like them. Different.

"For this reason, if you attend Hogwarts, not just this year but _any_ year, you will have to limit your metamorphoses. Perhaps even not let anyone know about your ability."

Nymphadora's eyes were wide as she listened to the Headmaster. He looked her straight in the eye, never wavering. "Understand, please, Nymphadora, that this is for your comfort and protection. Adolescents, you will discover, are sometimes incredibly horrible. Should they find out how extensively you are able to change your appearance, they will have a hard time trusting you. I've seen it happen before."

Nymphadora hadn't blinked in minutes.

"Nobody wants to start out school with a social disadvantage like that. Soon you will make friends in your house, whichever that may be, and you may wish to tell them. That is your prerogative. However, I suggest that you exercise great discretion when choosing whom to tell, if you tell at all, for one word to the wrong person and you may find yourself in an incredibly sticky situation.

"That being said, should you wish at any point to stop keeping your abilities a secret, you will still have to be restricted to one face. That means that at any point you may change the color of your hair, your height, and your size, but your face will always have to be the same."

That seemed reasonable to Nymphadora, so she nodded.

"Naturally," Dumbledore continued, "I shall require some insurance." Andromeda shifted beside Nymphadora, and Dumbledore glanced up to meet her eyes. He quickly hurried on, "But that's for another time. You are much too young for an Unbreakable Vow or a Wizard's Oath, so we shall simply shake on it," he offered his hand, which she took, "and call this business done." They shook hands, and the Headmaster stood.

"Your proper Hogwarts Acceptance Letter will arrive some time this week." The family also rose, and the four of them moved toward the foyer.

At the door, Dumbledore bid each of them goodbye, and leaned down to speak more on Nymphadora's level.

"My dear, if you do choose to keep your talents secret, as I would advise, remember that the face you choose will be yours for your Hogwarts career. So," and here he lowered his voice a bit, "let's make it a really good one, yeah? Maybe," he said, tweaking her button nose and looking directly into her black eyes, "your natural one?"

He winked, and disapparated.

* * *

As promised, her real Hogwarts letter arrived two days later, and Nymphadora had a wonderful time looking over the supply list, anticipating her first trip to Diagon Alley, until she remembered that she had to pick a face to wear for the next seven years.

She spent days on end sitting in front of her mum's old vanity, scrutinizing her face. Freckles or none, big eyebrows or small, blue eyes or green eyes or brown eyes or grey eyes, hooked nose or button, brown hair or red hair or black hair or blond hair, taller or shorter. The choices were innumerable, and all the while Andromeda sat next to her, not saying a word.

Dumbledore's words rang in her head, and they only served to make her more confused. Her natural face? Nymphadora had seen it before, and she knew she wasn't hideous, but she wasn't anything special, either. She was being handed the opportunity to be anything she wanted, but also to be stuck there. What if she wasn't happy with her looks halfway through school? What if she wanted to be prettier, or taller, or skinnier? Already she was dreading not having the option of having pink hair, or blue, or having bright purple eyes, or scarlet freckles.

Merlin, life was going to be so _boring. _

"_Maybe... your natural one?"_

Nymphadora hesitated, before slowly shifting to her natural looks.

Nope. Nothing special.

She had dark brown hair and eyes, and a smallish, straight nose, the bridge of which was covered by freckles, which in turn spread out over her cheeks. Experimentally, she tugged down the shoulder of her t-shirt. Yep, shoulder freckles, too.

Her mouth was wide, with plump little lips, and a dimple in the bottom one.

Even her teeth were boring, straight and white and a little bit large. She had a strong chin and jaw, and her ears stuck out a bit on the sides.

So... _boring. _

She looked up at her mother, whose face softened when she saw her daughter's looks, and whose mouth held a smile for what felt like the first time in days. The same mouth as the one now adorning Nymphadora's face. She looked back at her reflection.

It'd do.

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks practically vibrated around her mother's legs as they walked through Diagon Alley, clutching her hand so tight as to make her mum's fingers go numb. They had already collected her books, robes, and potions supplies, and the only thing left on the list was a wand.

A _wand._

Nymphadora's first ever, proper, real-life, chooses-the-wizard wand.

She could barely breathe for excitement.

Despite having used a training wand for five years now, this moment seemed huge. Monumental, even. After all, all training wands are essentially the same. There's no great need for them to be specially made, since they were only going to be used for a handful of years, but the wand you receive at the age of eleven (or ten, Nymphadora supposed) was with you for life, if you were lucky. No wand would ever be more suited to you than _that_ wand. And she was _finally_ going to get hers.

They entered the shop while another was being fitted, alone, except for the shopkeeper, Mr. Olivander. They waited to the side of the door, Andromeda patiently, Nymphadora less so.

Mr. Olivander seemed to have nearly reached the end of his patience as well. There was a colossal heap of wands on his already cluttered desk, and the man himself looked about ready to wring his young customer's neck. Luckily, he refrained, and simply sighed, heading to the back for more wands.

The boy being fitted was not much taller than Nymphadora, also with brown hair and eyes, but much lighter. In fact, his eyes were almost golden, they were so light. She considered initiating conversation, but the thumping of Mr. Olivander's approaching feet put her off.

As Olivander emerged from the back room, carrying at least ten more boxes under his arms, he spoke to the young boy he was outfitting.

"Well, Mr. Lupin, we seem to have exhausted the more standard core's for your size, and so we move on to the less standard. Here," he said, handing the boy another box, "try this one. Oak, 32 centimeters, powdered troll toenail core." The boy cringed, before taking the handle of the wand.

"You think that's bad? Then I guess it's a good thing I didn't tell you it was varnished with giant urine."

This time the boy let out a very questionably masculine _eep! _and dropped the wand entirely. Mr. Olivander sighed. "No matter, it wasn't the right fit anyway."

The two tried three more wands before the shopkeeper pulled out the dustiest box Nymphadora had ever seen in her life. It looked like it hadn't been touched in decades, possibly centuries.

"I don't usually try to fit this one, it's notoriously difficult to do. Willow, Weeping Willow, to be more precise, 35 centimeters, werewolf venom core. It probably won't do, werewolves are incredibly picky as to whom they chose, in any aspect, but still, better safe than sorry."

The boy looked even more hesitant to take this one than the troll-nail one, and stopped, just before touching the wand.

"I know it's unpleasant, child, but you've got to at least _try_." Mr. Olivander was practically weeping, and Nymphadora hoped for his sake that she was an easier fit than the boy before her.

But, when he finally picked the wand up out of its box, something in the room _changed_. Nymphadora couldn't see it, but evidently Mr. Olivander could, because he positively whooped with joy before waving his wand and sending all the rejects back to their shelves. He rang the boy up and even gave him a discount for buying a wand that had given the shopkeeper trouble in the past, asked him to wait for his mother out of the way while he dealt with his next customers. Nymphadora stepped cautiously forward toward the now jittery man, and he didn't even bother with small talk as he whipped his measuring tape all around her small body.

He didn't speak to her at all except to tell her "Yew, 30 centimeters, unicorn hair" or "Pine, 28 centimeters, dragon's heartstring" and the occasional "No no nononono..." as he plucked the wand from her hand and disappeared again.

After not too long a time, she was handed a "Ash, 25 centimeters, pixie dust core" wand. And then Mr. Olivander couldn't seem to shut up. "Not very long, but easily concealed," he winked, "and a strong, smooth wood. Reliable, not easily lost, despite its size. And pixie dust, well, that's a little odd. But good. Unpredictable, and playful. But I imagine that's more you than your wand," again with the wink.

"Now, that'll be seven galleons even, Ms.-"

"Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks."

Olivander blinked. "Well, Ms. Nymphadora Tonks. Quite the name. Should have told me that before hand, your wand might have been easier to find."

"But you didn't-"

"No matter, still an easier fit than the boy before you." He glanced over at the aforementioned boy. "Who is still here. Where's your mother, Mr. Lupin?"

Lupin blushed, and opened his mouth to speak when the door slammed open to admit a tall woman with clearly prematurely silver hair. She wore a plain brown robe, the cut of which almost more resembled a muggle trench coat.

"Sorry I took so long, Remus," she said, not even glancing at him. "All paid for? Yes? Good." And with that she turned and exited the shop, her son following a step behind.

Mr. Olivander cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. Seven galleons even, Ms. Tonks."

She placed the money on the counter, (she had insisted on paying for her first _proper _wand _herself,_ thank you very much), bid the shopkeeper (who was looking much better than when they had come in) good day, and turned to leave the shop, when Mr. Olivander spoke again.

"Oh, and Ms. Tonks?" She turned back to look at him. "Welcome to the Wizarding World."

She beamed at him, waved, and left the shop, her mother's hand clutched in hers.

**AN: Woohoo! Another chapter! Yay! I like this story. It's very nice. God, been traveling all day, got a tremendous cold, and my brain is about to melt. Buuuuh.**

**A little shorter than the last one, sorry. But not that sorry, since that is two chapters in one day. Well, in one 24-hour period. Anyway. And I also got the rewrite of the first chapter of my other story up. So. Productive day. **

**Except, school starts on Monday, so my days are about to get simultaneously more and less productive. Huzzah.**

**Wish me luck, readers. And REVIEW.**

**LOVE**

**William Chalmers Jr. **


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